


you make the sound of pulling heaven down

by ElasticElla



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, M/M, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: The Sakaaran space ship is full of winding hallways and extravagant decorations. (Extravagant in size and shape not material, truly originating from a trash planet.)
Relationships: Heimdall/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside)





	you make the sound of pulling heaven down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> title from blue october's sound of pulling heaven down

Thor is exhausted by the time Valkyrie clasps his shoulder, says the first shift is up. He insisted on flying the ship after the battle, wanted everyone else to rest up first. He isn’t mortal and it’s the least he can do for the survivors. (Loki offered to fly of course, the sly trickster probably planning on taking them to a different planet.) Thor blames the sleepiness for getting lost on his way back to wherever the rooms with beds are. 

The Sakaaran space ship is full of winding hallways and extravagant decorations. (Extravagant in size and shape not material, truly originating from a trash planet.) Steam wafts into the hallway, dreamlike, and without thought Thor follows, stepping into a lavish bathroom. 

Everything is blindingly white and gold, but Thor’s gaze is stuck on the bubbling bathtub that takes up the room’s center. Golden eyes of a thousand stars glitter up at him, make the furnishings seem tacky and shallow. Makes him forget he was tired at all, heartbeat tripling and pounding in his ears. 

Heimdall blinks, and it’s as if Thor’s been released from a spell, all too aware of his own silence. Heimdall nods to the opposite side, “Care to join?” 

His stomach swoops, a strangled chuckle emerging. “Not much room there.” 

Heimdall is impassive, his signature expression whenever he wants Thor to make a decision without his input. It’s grating as always, for a man who can see everything, he must know that. 

“No, there isn’t,” he finally says. 

Heimdall’s gaze doesn’t waver as he undresses, and Thor reminds the butterflies in his chest that it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. Reminds the blood in his cheeks that he is an Asgardian god, doesn’t suffer from false modesty. Electricity tingles in the back of his throat at the thought – Heimdall _might_ have actually seen him nude before. By accident perhaps or maybe even – 

Thor steps into the water before he can have another problem to deal with. It’s almost unbearably hot, the heat straddling the line between relaxing and too much. He submerges himself completely before sitting across from Heimdall, can blame the water for any redness. 

The soft bubbling feels louder as silence stretches, and Thor can’t take it anymore, isn’t in the mood for quiet contemplative silence. (He rarely is.)

“You saved Asgard,” Thor says. “I haven’t said it plainly, but you are the reason there are so many survivors.” 

“I will always defend our people.” Heimdall says it easily, unquestionably, loyal to his very marrow. It makes Thor feel greedy for wanting more, and spoilt child he was, greed is not an emotion he is familiar with. 

“Thank you,” Thor presses, needs him to know how heartfelt his gratitude truly is. “Without you, all would have been lost.” 

“Perhaps,” Heimdall says, refusing to concede. His eyes glimmer, “But that is not what you wish to tell me.” 

The words throw him, “I mean it-” 

Heimdall’s hand settles on his knee underwater, blood rushing down. It’s one thing to know Heimdall can see anywhere, anything without impediment, another to feel it in action. 

“Tell me Thor. Before death seeks us out once more.” 

It hits him then that Heimdall wouldn’t be insisting if he didn’t care to hear the words, and he feels as thick as his brother always said he was. (‘Different kinds of intelligence darling,’ his mother would say, patting his hair.)

“I want you. You must know, for some time now-” 

Heimdall is a far more merciful god than himself, kisses the words off his lips. And Thor opens his mouth, galaxies spiraling behind his eyelids, a warm pleasure racing across him. 

(They stay in that pool far longer than is warranted, until the water has long gone cold and they simply must retire to a room to warm away the goosebumps.)


End file.
